by Jordan Baker
A sword held by a long, bone-covered arm met Rolan's blade and Quenta suddenly stood between him and the two women. Rolan groaned angrily, but after a moment he lowered his sword, then turned and walked away, across the open clearing toward the forest on the other side. Quenta turned to his mother and the young goddess and slowly shifted his form, reverting back to something similar to what he had been before he had taken up the godsword, but many of his features still remained changed and his limbs were noticeably longer than they had once been.
"Quenta," Laurana said warmly. "It pleases me to see you well, and glad you were near. It seemed as though Rolan meant to attack us?"
"I am well enough," he said, his voice distant. "But I fear Rolan may be lost to the wilderness and I would advise that he not be approached."
"Did he intend harm?" Laurana asked.
"I do not believe so," Quenta replied. "He is angry about the forest, but he can no longer speak with words as we do now, and it frustrates him, though I can understand him." He turned to Ehlena. "You have done this to him, and to me."
"I have done nothing but give you the power of old," Ehlena said. "As you have discovered, it is your choice to become Alvar if you wish, and it remains your choice."
"And what of Rolan?" Quenta asked.
"He is also as he chooses to be," Ehlena replied. "He protects the forest. That was always his wish, and it has been granted."
"The dragons have left to join the army that travels to Maramyr," Laurana said, changing the topic of the conversation. "It is good of you, Quenta, to offer your aid."
"It is my duty to respond, after what has been done to our home," he replied, then his angular features turned to a dour expression. "I fear the darkness at Maramyr is far greater than what we have seen here. It is as though the land itself cries out."
"You can feel the world," Ehlena said, knowing from the memories of the goddess that the power of the Alvar was far greater than the way the elves could talk with the trees, for like the trees themselves, they were connected to all things in the world.
"Yes," Quenta said, looking off in the distance in the direction of Maramyr. "It is not so overwhelming as what you once shared with the court but I can feel many things even beyond the forest. There is much death and desolation to the east, a fear and emptiness that fills me with both dread and anger."
"Ariana said she is glad that you have agreed to help in the battle," Laurana told him.
"It is a grave enemy we face." Quenta turned and stared at his mother and his implacable expression softened for a moment. "We are family, and the people of Maramyr and Kandara have shown their honor, defending our home, and I will honor them with my will. Now that the last of these creatures has been slain and the forest is safe once again, my warriors and I will leave at once."
"A fair journey to you, Quenta," Laurana said. "May you return to us safely."
"Farewell," Quenta said, bowing to Laurana and with a nod to Ehlena, he turned and strode away then he broke into a run, his long limbs carrying him across the desolate clearing. A moment later, a force of a hundred elves, masks grimly covering their faces, emerged from the forest on horseback and rode after the elven prince.
"I must leave as well," Ehlena said. "It has been pleasant to walk with you, Laurana."
"I know it is not my place to counsel one with such knowledge and power as a goddess," Laurana said, reaching out and placing her hand on Ehlena's arm. "Please take care not to weaken yourself unnecessarily in this fight. I would that you would return to us safely as well that we may walk again among the trees."
Ehlena felt Laurana's power flow into her, taking away the ache in her bones and pushing away the effects of the poison. Like the tree the elven queen had touched, she felt the pain recede, but like the tree, it was but a momentary respite from the poison that still ate away at her from the inside.
"I would like that very much," Ehlena said with a tired smile, before she disappeared upon the breeze. "Farewell, Laurana."
CHAPTER TWO
Wind howled and the seas heaved and crashed under ominous skies as the storm whipped the Aghlar coast. The many ships pulled at their moorings from the dramatic rise and fall of the water, even within the protection of the harbor. It was unnerving to all, and particularly unsettling to Carlis' stomach, for even before the storm he had fallen prey to the swaying sickness and it was now worse then ever. Despite reassurances by his crew that he would eventually overcome it, he was loathe to sail on open waters, especially on rougher seas, though on this day, not even the Aghlar sailors would venture forth into such treacherous waters.
"I cannot take this any longer," Carlis said, looking up from the ledger book that was open before him on his captain's desk. "Let us visit the city for a time."
"You do look a rather unfavorable shade of green, Carlis," Elaine said, pinning the needle and thread to the edge of the cloth she had been sewing. She put them down on the short sofa and rose to her feet, steadying herself against the wooden wall of the ship's cabin. "I must admit, the weather has been particularly strange of late, so perhaps it's best that we spend a little less time on the ship, at least until it calms."
"I will gladly spend my gold at an inn, if only so I can keep down a meal," Carlis said as he rose from his desk. "It is strange to be famished with hunger yet have my stomach turn at even the thought of food."
"That would be our gold," Elaine reminded him. "And an inn will not be necessary. Toren will give us a room at the palace."
"I do not want to impose on Toren." Carlis reached out a hand to the wall, to steady himself as the ship rocked beneath his feet, its heavy, wooden beams creaking as it jostled hard against the pier, so hard its hull might well crack were it not for the tight bales of grass tied between the two.
"Nonsense." Elaine reached out and took his hand. "I will impose on Toren, as much as I like."
"You certainly seem to have your way with him," Carlis commented, as they approached the door.
"Do I detect a hint of jealousy?" She turned and smiled at him.
"Don't tease me right now, Elaine." Carlis felt his stomach turn.
"I will tease you later, when you are feeling a little better," Elaine said with a sigh, then she gritted her teeth against the coming wind and pushed open the door. Outside, she and Carlis saw the crew running across the deck, all of them staring out toward the mouth of the harbor.
"What's going on?" Carlis rasped, noticing the commotion and choking down the meal he had eaten earlier in the day, as it rose up into his throat.
"It's a ship," Elaine said, raising her voice over the whistling wind, staring past the bare mast and the rigging of the Al'Andor.
Further out to sea, among the crashing waves were a number of ships, several dozen of them, of all sizes, arrayed across the dark horizon, and not one of them seemed to be at sail, though they had somehow appeared. Moving toward the harbor, strangely without a sail unfurled like the others, was a small ship that seemed to cut a path right through even the largest of waves. Upon the wharf, Toren and a group of Aghlar warriors had already gathered, and the king looked through a long spyglass as he barked out orders to ready cannons. The crews of every ship in the harbor leapt to action as word spread of the dreaded pirates of Meer Island, along with whispered questions of why they would come to Aghlar, where they were far from welcome. When Sten informed him of the situation, Carlis nodded for the crew to follow the Aghlar king's commands, then he and Elaine made their way from the ship to where Toren stood with his guard.
As the small ship approached, cannons were loaded with shot and black powder, and hands rested on swords, ready for an attack, while every sailor and ship's captain watched the ship glide into the harbor. Upon its bowsprit stood a woman with dark hair, wearing the loose-fitting garb of a sailor and a sword at her belt. The ship slowed and came to a stop in the center of the harbor, the water around it calm and unmoving, despite the rise and fall of the harbor and the whipping wind. The water itself suddenl
y rose up where the woman stood and she stepped from the ship and walked out onto it, standing right upon a wave. Gasps of incredulity and sworn oaths made their way among the crews as the water carried the woman the rest of the way to the wharf, then she walked onto it, and strode right toward the Aghlar king.
"You are King Toren of Aghlar," she said, with a squint and a cock of her head, looking him directly in the eye.
"Aye, and who'd you be?" Toren asked, gruffly, squinting a suspicious eye back at her.
"I am the sea, I am the rain, I am the river, and the blood in your veins," she replied with a wry smile. "That's who I be." Toren stared at her for a moment before responding, raising his voice loud enough to be heard over the sound of the wind.
"It has been some time since the Aghlar have felt the presence of Mara."
"You feel my presence with the crest and fall of every wave," Carly told him, then she smiled again and sighed. "It has been some time since I walked among the people of the sea."
"Why have you come to us, brining foul weather and raging seas?" Toren asked, glancing at the ships out past the harbor. "You have forsaken the Aghlar people, and now it seems you side with pirates. What offense have we given?"
"None, and be it known that I take no sides between you and the people of Meer," Carly said, with a moment of irritation mirrored in the seas behind her. "But for now, your dispute with the pirates is over."
"That's surely an interesting idea, though it's easier to say a thing than to see it done," Toren countered. "We Aghlar now follow the Lady, and we have for generations. We've a dispute with them pirates and it'll be our choice what we do about it."
"If you must," Carly said. "Then I ask that you put aside your dispute for there are greater matters at hand, first among them that the Lady goddess herself may be in danger."
"She is a goddess," Toren said with a frown. "The Lady is powerful."
"She is also Ehlena, your daughter, if I am not mistaken."
"Aye, that she is," Toren replied. "And what of it? It were a blessing when she was chosen, but what is this about her being in danger? She is powerful, a goddess no less."
"If you know who I am, then you know that I speak truth," Carly told him, then she looked at the people, who stood silently listening. "To the north, in the forest of the elves, the Lady has fought against the shadow, and by her hand, and the actions of others, she has driven the dark power back, but at great cost. I call upon you, the brave warriors of Aghlar to aid in the battle, to return to the inland sea and defend it as you once did in times of old."
"What cost?" Toren asked, his voice low so the others would not hear. "What has happened to her? Tell me what has happened."
"I do not know all, but she has been poisoned by the shadow and her power is weakened." Carly told him quietly. "Ehlena continues to fight, but she has asked for my help, and she asks for yours as well."
"Why does she not come herself," Toren asked.
"The truth? Ehlena is gravely ill, Toren," Carly whispered, then she raised her voice and addressed the crowd. "This storm that has risen, threatening your ships and angering the seas, it is unnatural and it is violent, but it is a mere echo of a storm that is far greater. The Lady, as you call her, has faced the shadow, and this storm is part of that. Will you stand with her, and answer the call of the gods, the oath of old, to drive the darkness from the land?"
"I would that we should help Ehlena, but what can we do?" Toren asked. "We are a seafaring people. If she is among the lands to the north, then it will take time to march to this battle for which we are ill prepared."
"What is a ship but a floating island, a piece of dry ground amid the waves?" Carly said. "Ready your ships for we will sail the great river to the inland sea, as your people did long ago."
"And what of the storm?" Toren asked. "Our ships cannot sail in such winds."
"The winds may rage, but there are strong currents in the deep, and the waters of this world are mine," Carly told him. "As with my ship, and those you see there outside the harbor, you will need no sails."
"We will agree to fight, but for the Lady, for Ehlena," Toren said. "Our people hold little love for the goddess Mara."
Carly shrugged. "That name is little more than an ancient memory to me anyway," she told him. "I have not been called by it for generations."
"Then what name do you go by now?" Toren asked.
"Carly," she answered. "It is a simpler name for the simpler life I chose."
"And yet you are here, now, commanding the seas," Toren said.
"I chose my life, but I do not choose what I am, and the world forces my hand once again," she said. "Just be glad that I have chosen to help, for if the shadow spreads across the land, there will be no life, no names, and no choosing one's fate."
"Is this shadow so great a danger?" Toren could not help but be a little skeptical, though the dark skies above and the torrential winds of the storm only seemed to be getting worse by the moment.
"I have spoken plainly, so do not test my patience, Aghlar," Carly warned. "If you wish to save the Lady goddess, your daughter, Ehlena, then ready your ships. We will leave at once."
Toren looked at his people, then he nodded at the dark haired goddess of the sea.
"All who follow the Lady, and love the daughter of Aghlar, ready your ships!" he yelled to the crowd of sailors, his voice booming over the howling wind. "We sail to the inland sea, by the power of the goddess."
"Aye!" yelled the Aghlar sailors, a little confused by what he had said, but they returned to their ships and set about readying their stores and securing their decks.
"Pardon, me, Toren," Carlis said, having finally navigated his way through the crowd to where the king stood. "Did you say we are going to Maramyr?"
"Aye," Toren replied. "As to how we get there, I'll believe it when I see it."
"Who might you be?" Carly asked, squinting at the man, noticing that he did not look much like an Aghlar.
"This is Captain Carlis," Toren told her, then, with a nod, he turned and spoke with several Aghlar sailors who had approached him for a word.
"I am Carlis, Captain of the Al'Andor, and former Magistrate to the Kingdom of Maramyr," Carlis told her, then he turned and gestured to Elaine. "This is Elaine, of the Royal House of Valamyr, aunt to my daughter, Ehlena."
"Valamyr," Carly said, staring at the woman who stood before her. "Aye, you do look something like him. I would have remembered it sooner, when I met your niece, but my thoughts were elsewhere." Her gaze shifted to somewhere far away and she sighed. "I haven't thought of him in some time."
"Who?" Elaine asked, a little confused.
"Valen," Carly replied, her eyes snapping back into focus and her gaze fixed upon Elaine. "The founder of your royal house."
"How would you know what Valen would have looked like?" Elaine shook her head, for the only likeness that she had ever seen was an old statue that had its features worn away from generations of age.
"He was my lover once," Carly said, as another distant memory ran through her thoughts. "A lovely man, he was."
She smiled and walked away, and Toren caught up to her just as she neared the edge of the wharf.
"We will be prepared to sail in short time," he said. "I am curious how we will be able to leave the harbor with no wind."
"Fire a shot from your cannon when you are ready," Carly told him. "Your ships will move as my will moves the sea that cradles them."
She turned and with a gesture a single wave of water rose from the harbor and carried her back to her ship.
"What a strange woman," Elaine said, staring after her and shaking her head. "It has been a thousand years since Valen lived."
"She is Mara, the goddess of the sea," Toren said. "It is very likely she spoke the truth, for that was always her way."
Elaine turned and stared at Carly as she stepped aboard her ship and the wave dropped back into the water. Carlis noticed the strange expression on her face.
"You
seem a little put out, Elaine," he said.
"It is nothing," she replied as Toren clapped Carlis on the shoulder, distracting him from the conversation.
"Carlis, we set sail for battle. Will your stomach be up to the task?"
"If we are to retake Maramyr, then I will suffer it," Carlis replied, and Toren reached into a small leather pouch on his belt and took out a small glass bottle, which he then handed to him.
"I have been meaning to give you this," Toren said. "Drink from this bottle but a few droplets and the sickness will pass."
"What is it?"
"A simple tincture of mint and spice root. Many Aghlar who have suffered as you do swear by it."
Carlis unstopped the bottle and sniffed the liquid inside. The scent of it both burned and cooled his nose, and it smelled sweet. He took a tiny sip as Toren had instructed him, and felt the potion spread across his tongue and his breath suddenly felt like winter frost. The taste of it was powerful enough that it made him gasp for a moment, but the nausea that had plagued him every time he set foot upon anything floating in the water immediately ceased.
"You say many Aghlar swear by this?" Carlis asked as he stopped the bottle and stared at the Aghlar king. "Why has no one told me of this?"
"As I said, I meant to give it to you," Toren said, his expression serious but his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Though I thought you might not need it."
"And why did my crew not tell me that there was such a cure?"
"Perhaps I mentioned to them that I planned this gift." Toren was trying not to laugh, but he was failing miserably.
"So all those time I was hanging off the side of the ship, emptying my guts out, I could have simply drank this minty potion?"
"Then you would have some use for it," Toren said with a grin and Carlis scowled at him.
"Yes, thank you, Toren, for your kind gift," he said, coldly then he walked away along the wharf toward where the crew was already making the Al'Andor ready to sail. "Come Elaine, we must set sail and reclaim our home."